I have something I need to admit.
I love to throw things away. I wait to run out of products just to throw out the empties. Hear hollow bottles hit bottom. Chop at the bits to cleanse my phone of old photos.
Toss things in trash cans. Revel in the idea of cleanliness.
The freedom of shedding old skin.
Of turning away from the old me. The old you.
(Sorry, I’m sure you’re great. But I’d love to never see you again).
So, let me help you embrace your inner Marie Kondo. Remember her? The life changing magic of tidying up? Well, I love tidying up. I could be a caterpillar, the way I’m so willing to reinvent myself. Build a new home and then throw it all away.
Build a new me. A new you.
(Sorry, I’m sure you’re great. But God, how I’d love it if you could have been better).
I’ve been writing for around two years now (Happy anniversary!), and I’ve talked at length about how much I love holding on. Hold on, wait.
That’s the opposite of letting go. Of tidying up. Of shedding skin. So, what am I on about? Well, just because I’m good at throwing things away doesn’t mean I’m good at letting them go. In 2019 Post Malone called it being “no good at goodbyes”. And yeah. I guess. Sure.
Two peas in a pod, call me guilty as charged.
I could throw it all away, like I do. Like i did. But I’d never not think about it when I can’t fall asleep.
Never not - That’s a double negative.
It means always – Ugh – and there I go again.
I can throw things away - People, places, things - But common nouns aren’t always so common. So, let’s get proper.
Pious in my devotion to becoming a new person… and a new person, and a new person. I’ve developed sticky fingers. A cross contamination of recollection. I throw things away, but they still find a way to come back and linger. Like now, like this. Haven’t I been here before? Deja vu of ‘that color is too blonde for you’?
I was devoted to being supportive, and really, what a shame - that she was too busy typing “Do you want to play a game?”
Before, I called these types of things Burn Ins but now, I just call them annoying.
(Sorry, I’m sure you’re…no, not really. ).
Marie Kondo, that’s the Asian woman who liked to clean, said the key was to pick up each object and ask yourself quietly “Does this spark joy?” If there was no joy to be found, you toss it.
As easy as 1-2-3. Keep only the things that speak to your heart. Discard all the rest. In 2017 Sam Smith called it being “Too good at goodbyes”. And yeah. I guess. Sure.
The more I practice, the better I’ll get.
(Sorry, I’m sure you’re great, but I’d love it if I never had to look at you again).
So, let’s stop and take a beat. Ask yourself, am I speaking to your heart?
Is that a spark of joy I hear? Do you still love me? Can you build a new home, then throw it away? Set it on fire. Smother it. Become a new person? And a new person? And new person?
Are you, like me, a caterpillar in disguise? A snake waiting to shed? Do you crave the freedom of turning away from the old me? The old you?
And I know, I know…
you’re sure I’m great, but you’d love it if you never had to hear my name again.
Wish you didn’t have to play an unwilling role in some stupid book number two. Could ignore the little voice in the back of your head that says…well, you know.
And i’m sorry about that…I feel for you, I do.
Because as much as I would like to brag about subscribing to ‘forgive and forget’, promise that I wasn’t lying about throwing things away - tell you my sticky fingers didn’t already type 350 pages of meticulously crafted grievances, we both know i’m no good at goodbyes.
So, i’ll get proper and end with this:
…I have something I need to admit.
Enhance your reading experience with today’s Blog pairing menu:
Lil’ Snack: Chantilly cake
Feature film: Red Rooms. a day hasn’t gone by that i don’t think about red rooms.